


all I ask is the where and the want

by jazzfic



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzfic/pseuds/jazzfic
Summary: And then there was Agnes, trying very hard not to commit further misdemeanours above those she had already coloured the galaxy with, as she leant on the transporter controls, gnawing on the worry that one wrong input code and she might just materialise them all to space dust.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	all I ask is the where and the want

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back. I still love them to bits.

Transporter duty. The most pivotal role, the anchor upon which everything else depended on, and today that role had been placed, once again, in Agnes’ lap. Never mind that the job was supposed to be a quick one they could do with their eyes closed, get in, make the swap, get out, fly away. At speed, she presumed, because as her poor land-locked stomach was beginning to find out, this darling rabbit of ship had only one gear, and it was not slow and gentle.

And they’d left her on transporter duty, again.

In the months after Coppelius, La Sirena’s crew had slotted into a more or less operational order. There was the admiral (retired), he of the poetic monologue and sharp diplomacy, but very much no good when it came to running quickly through crowded alleys and dark corners. Though discreet, there was a certain amount of cotton-balling the man as much as his pride allowed, which was actually a generous amount, to the relief of everyone, especially Elnor. There was the capable, sharp cunning of Raffi and the tank-like blast bomb of Seven, individually brilliant but together a fearsome package, if somewhat stubborn and prone to blindness, especially when it came to each other. There was Soji and Elnor, the damn kids as Rios called them, gifted beyond reason and as new to the universe as the others were bone tired. 

There was the captain, whose Starfleet muscle memory disguised as grumpiness tried to wrangle them all into some semblance of crew, the stoic wall which crumbled when it was clear that all he had to go on was kindness. 

And then there was Agnes, trying very hard not to commit further misdemeanours above those she had already coloured the galaxy with, as she leant on the transporter controls, gnawing on the worry that one wrong input code and she might just materialise them all to space dust.

As she stood there in the quiet, waiting for the comm to beep and some sort of unintelligible babble from Raffi or Rios to jerk her into action, she thought of the small away party standing there on the pad hours before, all kitted up in the most nondescript but don’t mess with me garb. In other words, their normal clothing. It was near impossible to disguise a Fenris Ranger as anything but, anyway; they were all still a little wary of Seven, and like good little cowards left those awkward conversations to Raffi. Like maybe we don’t need two pulse rifles today, well okay just the one, but could she keep it hidden...?

(Though, where Raffi would have gladly and gleefully argued with Cris Rios at full volume in front of an audience, she was a little softer and more hesitant to breach anything combative with the xB. The strange fortitude of relationships, Agnes thought. Contrary to the end.)

“’Copy that’,” she’d murmured softly, under her breath, watching them form a huddle to strategise and then disperse, bustling with readiness. “’Copy that, go ahead’... come back.”

Though not soft enough; there was Rios’ hand brushing her lower back and his whisper repeating her words, “Copy that, Agnes.” He was teasing her nervousness, his breath warming her as he stepped past to stand beside Raffi, Seven and Soji. She’d shot a glare at his back; he was just as bad, the way he cocked his elbows and ticked off his fingers to Soji all the hundred things that could put her in harm’s way – as if she wasn’t the deadliest and most capable of them all. He was a damned mother hen.

_Well then, do as I ask_ , she’d almost said in response, feeling a strange happiness bloom in her chest. Come back safe. 

“We ready?” Seven, one hand at her belt and booted feet squared, stared past the others to Agnes. Unused to a crew, she was blunt in nearly everything she did, including adhering to the loose chaos that La Sirena’s command structure presented. It flustered Raffi, which in turn amused Rios. 

But Agnes let the steel blue eyes bore into hers, her nerves holding, and with a steady hand touched the panel. A series of yellow helixes, swirling in the air, a hum through her bones, and they were gone.

–

There were a few weeks of dancing around one another, of course. On more than one occasion she had toed barefoot following the stealthy path between her room and Rios’ only to encounter Raffi doing the same on the way to Seven. Nothing like a dimly lit awkward exchange of ‘hey’ and ‘can’t sleep either huh?’ as a transparent way to avoid admitting that they were too old for booty calls in the middle of the ship’s night, but plainly this was more than a coping mechanism and anyway, fuck, they were all adults. Surely they were all capable of digging out some semblance of normality in this dusty corner of space. 

They deserved this, at least, after everything. In the immediate return to Earth, Agnes had sat through a long winded hearing with a cuff around her ankle hoping for a decision she knew she wasn’t going to get. In the end the best anyone could come up with in the new normal of free synths was that a forced mind meld trumped anything else. She found no words to argue against this, receiving an apology and a free pass to continue her research, wherever and however she wanted. If she wanted. 

Agnes wanted, yes, through she wasn’t sure what. Only the where, she was certain of, more than anything. That certainly was sharp and cool and made her skin tingle, like a refresher on the highest setting, made to wake her from deep sleep. 

So she returned to the small freighter, waiting, expecting to have to explain herself, only to find the ship quiet and near to empty. There was just Picard on the bridge with his head in old star charts, pointing out something to Elnor while Emmet slumped in the ops chair and snored. Nobody noticed her as she put her bag in her small quarters, as she immediately stepped out again, down a short way, to stop by another door and thumb in the code she’d memorised. 

Inside Rios was dozing in one of the two leather chairs. That sparse furniture, the few possessions he deemed happy to share set out on the shelves; she took it in with clear eyes, alert to a sense that good things might come of this, should she want them to. 

A kiss to wake him. “Did you miss me?” she asked. He stood, blinking his eyes open. She watched the tiredness sweep away and caught his hands and pulled them to her waist, smiling patiently as with a voice rough from sleep he made out an apology. He'd lost track of time. She was early. She was definitely early. They’d been planning to meet her, Raffi had a cake and everything. Another kiss, noses bumping. A tremor of laughter in Rios’ chest. She wondered if he’d thought she wasn’t coming back.

–

They could be so achingly, remarkably oblivious, all of them. 

“They’re late,” Agnes said, pacing in tight circles, eyes locked on the transporter pad as if she could see through it, past the ship’s hull and the whirling atmosphere to the surface of the planet, far below. 

Picard shrugged. She marvelled at his casualness, the way he stood there, hands in his pockets, cozied up like he was about to set off on an afternoon stroll, only with a teenage Romulan at his heels instead of Number One and her soft doggy panting. 

“Remember, Dr. Jurati, things don’t always go by Starfleet time out here.” Agnes shook her head and blinked. As if he wasn’t himself a product of the perfectly timed away mission. Maybe the mind transfer had installed a sense of impenetrable zen. Well, that was wonderful. If only they could all be so lucky. 

A burst from the comm made them both jump. Agnes quite discernibly; the admiral’s eyebrows merely fractured a millimetre or two in surprise. She slapped her badge. “Yes, I’m here! I mean, go ahead!”

“This is Raffi. Job’s done, four to beam up.”

“Copy that.” 

Agnes slid her fingers upwards. There was a whine and a moment as the figures materialised where she was sure that time itself had slowed to nothing, then all she could see was movement and bodies and all she could hear was noise, voices and words tumbling all around her. The sound of Seven’s boots clumping on the titanium floor, Raffi and Soji talking at the same time, as Picard smiled and touched Soji on the shoulder, and said, “Well done, did you all have fun?” like a schoolteacher welcoming a class back from break. 

She unclamped her jaw, letting out a shaking breath. “God damn it.” When the noise died away she looked up from her bent knees to where dark eyes were observing her, crinkled with amusement. “I swear, Cristobal Rios, I’ll smack you hard and then throw your cigars into the waste disposal if you so much as say one word right now. One word.”

One day she would get used to this. One day she would be entirely calm about it. She’d be bathed in the casualness of it all, and it would be wonderful. 

But until then...

“Everything go to plan?” she asked, quieter now, her nerves settling. “All’s safe and well in the black market?”

He nodded.

“But we need to high tail it out of here, though, right?”

Another nod, this time Rios made a face and a slight gesture with one hand, just a little antsy, more than a little happy, like a boy ready to run far and fast.

Maybe that one day could start here.

She smiled, despite herself. “Well, go on then.” 

He curled an arm around her shoulders and kissed her quickly, and he did as she bid.


End file.
